


I Got You

by Adahyus



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Mystical Creatures, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:00:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28810764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adahyus/pseuds/Adahyus
Summary: A prompt for Monster-Silver.John Silver is the last mystical creature on this earth and he was on the run. One day, the ship he was boarding was taken by most feared pirate Captain Flint. But Captain Flint saw something on him. Will Silver be able to hide his identity?
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8
Collections: Black Sails Holiday Exchange 2020





	I Got You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Garnet_EveSky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garnet_EveSky/gifts).



> Inspired by Malaysian and Indonesian folklore (where I'm currently living), orang bunian are supernatural beings said to be invisible to most humans, except those with "spiritual sight. Or in another word, "elves", also translates to "hidden people" or "whistling people". They are described as beautiful, dressed in ancient Southeast Asian style, and nearly identical to humans in appearance. - source from Wikipedia.
> 
> The original prompt was Monster Silver to confide in Flint, but I changed it at the last minute to write a better story as first meeting for Silver as mystical creature and Flint as human. I hope the recipient will like it!
> 
> No beta-ed and apologize for my grammar/thesaurus and spelling mistake *bow down*

He wasn’t used to living in this world, way different from his world. Old or New World, both of them looked the same, except he can’t use what he can do in this world. His New World has changed, the magic was dying and new beliefs and civilization took their place. His people were long gone, and he is the only last kind in this world. They took away all women while the boys were sent somewhere. God knows where they are. He spent his entire life as a street kid for ten years, to survive without using his magical abilities. Steal, run, and hide, he was grateful that he learned these skills from his playtime with his older siblings. They will steal things, even knives or shiny things (sometimes magic too) from their house, and they will sprint as fast as possible and hide, away from human sight. Watching these human beings frustrated, yelling at mystical creatures for stealing their things at inconvenient times. All of them were giggling at that thick, tall but stupid creature on the tree, hidden from that man’s sight. The man wasn’t amused by their childish play and warned them not to do that again. He knew his parents worried about being exposed. He had heard how his distant relatives disappeared on the day humans found them. Nobody knows what happened to them. Either dead or forced to live and work with them and their civilization. 

One day, there was one man dressed in a sharp attire, a thick book on his left hand and he said one word, and everything disappeared. His world is gone, he and his family have nowhere to hide. What he knew was to run, run, and run away from these people. They left their old home without taking any belongings.

He still remembers his mother’s voice. He remembers what she said before she sent him away. “Remember who you are, my love. You are my only child and my hope. Run across the world, and don’t let them take your gift away. Someday, we will find each other soon. I love you.” She gave the last kiss on his forehead, wrapping him with her shawl under the enormous tree trunk. She was gone before he could say something to her. _“I don’t want to go.”_ In a blink, he was unfamiliar, large fields surrounded by hundreds of sunflowers. He heard the birds chirping, and felt a cool breeze in front of his face. He realized he was alone. His family was gone.

He doesn’t want to remember that. It’s too painful to remember the loss and memories.

He hasn't had close contact with someone for many years, and he missed the intimate feeling with his people. He never had a close relationship with humans, as he was still wary of their motive and what they want. He doesn’t want to expose his true identity to humans, after many years of hearing all kinds of stories where his kind was found, chased by them, and shackled in their house as slaves. He doesn’t trust any humans are friendly, even Father Jacob tried to be close to him and he will run. Only one person he trusted was Mother Catherine. She was kind, mother hen to him whenever other boys would beat him up due to his small body. She was the first person to touch his bruised face and body, she would let him sleep on her lap, listening to her reading the Bible. From there he learned how to speak human language, mimic their behavior. Her touch was warm as if her hands were sunbathed under a sunny day, her wrinkled palm gave him a sense of gentle hands of his mother and her lavender perfume’s smells reminded him of his home. He never felt so safe with humans, after living off the jungle than on the street and stealing the food from the stall for survival. Her embrace was the one to keep his secret safe, he secretly wished he could tell her his origin. But he couldn’t.

Everything went well for him, growing up into a tall, handsome teenager boy. He lived with her until she passed away due to illness. He didn’t manage to tell his true identity to her deathbed. He remembered her last touch on him: she kissed his cheek before she gave her last breath. After her passing, he left the orphanage to live on the street. He has no desire to live there as the boys his age had to leave for the army. He prefers to live alone, not even bothered to join other street rats as well. And he needs to hide his true identity and away from civilization and the people. He was yearning for the touch from humans, hoping for a warm touch, someone like her as his tether. Someone he can confide in and someone to protect him from a cruel world. He was tired, running away from the people who came too close to him, or the people who wanted to know him, or the people who wanted to keep his whore for his pretty appearance. He hated it and he wished he could use his magic to disappear or to hurt them but he couldn’t. The world he used to live in was dying and the door to his world was long gone.

His life was changed forever when he was boarding on the Parish ship as the passengers. He heard the chaos from the upper deck and quickly hid in the galley. He bolted the door and waited, and waited until the explosion and the screams stopped. His sharp hearing sensed someone was coming to this room. The door was busted and he was discovered by the quartermaster and bosun. Knowing his life is on the line, he introduced himself, “Hello. I would very much like to join your crew. My name is John Silver. And I happen to be a very good cook.”

Well, that was going well right? Not exactly what Silver envisioned, joining the crews instead they threw him into the cabin where the most feared Captain stood next to the small man, checking the log on the desk. That tall bosun stood behind him, with his blade on his hip and watching his back and the door, in case Silver tried to run. Quartermaster, who addressed him as Mr. Gates went straight to that captain, whispering something. That captain turned around, the ray of sun beamed on his head, revealing his bright, red hair with his green eyes and twisty mustache along with his long coat swiftly softly as if he was descended from the other world. Silver was mystified by the man’s beauty, soon he knew his name was Captain Flint, the most feared pirate captain in the Caribbean world. He was curious to know what bald man with tattooed eyes in a triangle on his back head, both of them glared at him. He swallowed his saliva, hoping the awkward atmosphere in this room would be gone, probably after he left the cabin. Probably not, he thought, and they both looked back at him, nodded at each other. He sensed something’s not right in this room, he couldn’t tell what’s it. _"Fuck me. I’m fucked. Shit._ That’s what he thought when Captain’s deathly glare on him.

“Billy, put these on him. He will stay in the cabin with Captain Flint for the entire day,” the bald man tossed that iron manacles to a tall bosun and he grabbed Silver’s both wrists with the irons, then hooked the chain to the wall, next to the bookshelf. He yelped with a sudden pull by that man, almost bumped the wall. He groaned but not in a painful way, just to show his dissatisfied look due to Billy’s mishandling of him.

Flint was unmoved with the whole situation and gave him a cold stare at the first, then moved on to his bookkeeper and Mr. Gates, with a logbook in his hands. Their meeting went on for one hour, their conversation merely on the loots, the ships, their navigation plans, and crews while Billy watched and guarded Silver at the same time. The first bells rang, they decided to dismiss the meeting and will be continued once they landed in Nassau. That bookkeeper, Dufresne took his leave first, together with the logbooks, then followed by Mr. Gates and Billy, gave _“I’ll be watching you”_ look to Silver as he closed the door loudly to scare him. Silver wasn’t amused and his arms rattled the chain on the wall.

He wasn’t happy to see himself being cuffed with irons on both wrists, his arms were tired after standing for hours, without anything to let him sit on (the small counter top on the bookshelf was too small for him.) The more he moved along the wave on the ship, the more he felt stung when the irons touched his skin. His long sleeves aren’t helping to cover the small burn from it. He sighed, his left fingers busily rubbing the burn sensation on his wrist, avoiding the iron.

“If you are not comfortable, say it so, Mr. Silver. I will take it off, with conditions you will not run away from me,” that red-haired man grabbed his two mugs from the bookshelf, tossing whatever content inside it and placed them on his desk. He pulled out the cabinet under the bookshelf, took out the rum, and poured it on both mugs. “Think it as the last offer, Mr. Silver and I shall not tolerate your noise and rattling these chains. I would rather have a quiet if you can stay until night falls.” He drank a bit of his mug, watching that curly man with blue eyes, with a blue blazer and brown trousers. He never saw a young man like him, with sun-baked sun skin, alone in this world. He’s curious about this man, claimed as the cook from the Parish, sailed from London. He observed that man’s behavior during the meeting, watching his hands moving frantically but in a calm state. He was hesitant whether to let him struggle a bit but the rattling noise from the chain and irons annoyed him. _Fuck this shit._ He then grabbed the key on his desk, unlocked the irons off Silver’s wrist and he dropped these irons on the floor.

“Thanks, for..taking off these irons. I appreciated it. And I-” Silver stopped when Flint knelt next to him and cuffed his left ankle with the manacle from earlier and chained it to the floor. “Hold on a minute, I haven’t sat down yet and you already cuffed me??” Silver tried yanking the irons off the hook on the floor, to no avail. He glared at that red-haired captain, enjoying his drink while slouching on the desk.

“Be grateful, you little shit. I rather have you sit on the chair than listening to you fucking rattling all day. I saw what you did there. Now sit down before I withdraw my offer-” he got cut off as Silver quickly sat on the chair and grabbed the mug on the desk. He wasn’t sure what to do next, whether to cheer his drink with Captain or drink it. He went with the latter, to calm down his nerves before preparing for the next wrath. Flint huffed at Silver’s swift reaction, knowing his threat works well but he never saw anyone with quick reflex, as if he met someone from another world. His mind was full of it, “what if” but quickly diminished his thought before that man took notice of him. They both continued to drink off their content silent, in a very awkward environment. Flint went back to his desk to continue on his navigational chart while Silver sat quietly, taking his moment to savor the rum slowly. _Not so bad for this rum_ , Silver thoughts.

  
This has been going on for a few hours and none of them hasn’t talked. He wasn’t sure if he should start a conversation, judging on Captain busily writing on his logbook and the chart. He kept watching that man, from his hairs to his arms and fingers. The warm sun shone on his freckled skin, the bright red flame on his hair and he was fascinated by the beauty and wondered what’s like touching him. Was it warm if he touched that man’s biceps, what his skin smells, and the feelings of palms and fingers on him? He wondered what if he was able to touch him with a little bit of magic while that man was asleep. Unbeknownst Flint silently watched him and he coughed a bit and Silver snapped back to reality, saw green eyes on him and he quickly polished the entire content from the mug. He avoided eye contact with Flint by looking around in the room and humming as usual. He never felt so silly, getting caught by Captain, was in front of him. He accidentally looked back at Captain, still glaring at him. Flint snorted at that man’s reaction, shaking his head and putting down the quills on the desk. If this man doesn’t want to talk, he has no choice but to step forward.

“You must be wondering why you are in this room, with me, without my bosun and quartermaster. Does this even pique curiosity, Mr. Silver?” Flint said, refilling his mug and Silver. “I’m afraid if I ask you a few questions, maybe you will kill me first before I have a chance.” he grinned, he looked at this empty mug. “Therefore, I prefer not to say anything, not with this iron chained on my ankle.” He took a glance at the captain’s green eyes still glaring at him, Silver replied, “Well because you offered this drink, ask me because sooner or later, I think I will get drunk,” he grinned sheepishly and placed his mug on the desk but it slipped out from his hand. He tried to grab the mug and Flint’s hand caught his wrist. The mug fell on the floor and slowly rolled toward Flint’s boots.

Flint’s touch sends a huge spark through his skin. He never felt such jolts for his entire life after spending his ten years of life on the street and avoiding human touch. That touch felt different, unlike his beloved Mother Catherine used to do. It felt warm as his hands basked in the sun, his palms were rough and the smells of ocean salt lingering on his fingers. He never felt that one before that he used to live in humid, earthy weather in his world. He wanted more of him, his touch, and his embrace. What he would smell like if he got close to him, kissing him and being on the bed with him. Silver quickly snapped out of his daydream when Flint’s dropped his wrist, taking away the mug from him. Silver’s breathing hitched and his mind was busy processing what fuck happened.

“Are you alright?” Flint asked with a concerned tone. He worried if the rum was too strong for this tiny man, and he also noticed Silver’s face changed after the touch. He felt the spark from Silver too, and the sensation somehow strange, yet warm. His wrist felt smooth, barely rough, unlike other sailors. He felt that small burn mark on that man’s wrist, the burn wasn’t bad enough to break his skin. He kept an eye on Silver’s reaction and his face showed after he dropped that man’s wrist. He decided to one last push on him to get more reaction, to confirm his suspension on that man, “If you are not feeling well, we can talk later. Anyway, this is not a big question. Besides, I would rather keep someone like you from looking into trouble with the crews. We’ll see about it tomorrow, once we land in Nassau.” Flint picked up the mug under him and put it away on the desk.

Silver felt disappointed by the sudden loss and Flint’s hands ghostly left on his arms. The heat, or the mark, still on his skin. He felt starved by the touch, so long after spending his entire life avoiding humans. He has so many questions in his mind and he needs to ask that captain. Why he’s here, not with the crews. Why he felt uncomfortable being here in this cabin and why the bald quartermaster did not question the captain’s choice and left them both here.

He quickly grabbed Flint’s sleeves, not realizing his hand was already on that man’s arms. “Wait. What did you say to Mr. Gates earlier? Why did he agree to let me here and why do you want to keep me here, instead of keeping me in the hold?” Silver asked, he wanted to know why this captain was so interested in him, he saw what Flint had on him. Why he took the iron off his wrist, offering the drink and the touch. He couldn’t help thinking of the touch and his curiosity rose as if his whistling sense were tingling in his heart. His instinct tells something. I need to know. Why are you doing this to me?

Flint, still unmoved with Silver’s grab on his sleeves and said, “I’m curious to know where you are from, Mr. Silver. A young man with sun-kissed skin and bright blue eyes as the ocean, never been on the sea for long and pretended as a cook.” He paused, and sat on the desk in front of that man, “I never let someone, perhaps a thief, roam free around this ship. Who knows you might steal something from me?” Flint replied nonchalantly, scratching his ginger beard and he continued, “Maybe, I could stash you here, interrogating you in this iron chain. Now, tell me, who exactly are you, Mister John Silver.”

Silver huffed at that accusation, coming from that Captain, “If I told you who I am, what would you do? Are you going to keep me here, after interrogation, and I must entertain you, or pleasure you? Listen, Captain, I’m not going to do that. I will scream out of loud to make your crews hear whatever you want to do on me. I may have a low tolerance for pain but I won’t, never do that for your entertainment. If you-.” Silver stopped and he was breathing heavily, he never felt rage so much, the humiliation when he heard that accusation on him. He hated being called a thief on this ship, and he promised to leave that old job and he just wanted to have a normal life, to live away from civilization. A proper job and a proper home for himself. This man, somehow irritated him with every possible thing he could think, either toying him around or touching him. He yearns for that touch, he wants to grab that man’s face and to kiss him, his last chance to savor it before facing his death under that captain’s hands.

“Are you a.. whistling?” Flint blurted out, unable to decide between to ask him now or later, his blue eyes were too beautiful to ignore. He couldn’t bear it any longer and he needed to know why this man kept avoiding his questions despite his body language being cautious of him, his squeamish because of the iron on his wrist. He knew any mystical creatures can’t stand with the iron and his touch somehow startled Silver. He never felt that jolt from his touch on him, as if he took a fallen angel from purgatory and left his mark on that creature. Silver’s skin felt so soft as mink seal fur he had when he was a young child went hunting with his late grandfather in Padstow.

“What? How..” Silver felt confused with all sudden questions from that man, then realizing his identity probably, already exposed. He rose and tried to get away from Flint but the iron on his ankles tugged him down. He fell on the floor and tried to get up, his hands wildly reaching down to take off the boot but was stopped by Flint. He smacked that man’s hand and yelled at him, “Get off from me!” Silver squirmed to get away by that captain also on the floor.

  
“Stop it, you little shit! If you keep doing that, you will hurt yourself!” spat Flint, struggling to hold both Silver’s wrist, he doesn’t expect to wrestle this man on the floor. He was too strong to be held, he wanted to summon Billy, but part of him wanted to protect this mystical creature from the others. He has no choice but to tell him the truth. Flint grabbed that tiny man’s wrists up, his face was up close to him. _So dangerous, yet so close._

“What the fuck you are doing on me! Let me go, you dirty pirate! Don’t you dare come close to my face and you-” spat Silver, he grabbed that man’s arm to flip over on him but to no avail. “I know who you are. I know someone like you still exists in this world,” Flint whispered into his ear, his hands still hold strong on that man’s wrist. Silver stopped, his breath slowed down and he looked up at that man still top on him. His breath followed the man’s breath rhythm, that green eyes never left on him. He wasn’t sure whether he needed to break away from him or trust that man. He chose the latter. He knows he isn’t supposed to listen to that man, but he needs to. He hates it and he knows what will happen to his entire folk if he let that man slip sweet, false promises to him. His face was too close to him, almost touching his lips. He knew if he let him in, he would lose his mind. _He would-_

“I can see your spiritual halo. It’s on your head.” Flint said, in a calming tone to Silver, his hand slowly stroking Silver’s chest to calm him down. His blue eyes finally met Flint, so much curiosity and questions.

“You.. you can see mine? But, how?” Silver asked, his nimble fingers stroking on Flint’s finger on his chest. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch that man’s chest, or his face, or every part of his body. His body still lies on the floor, with Flint on top of him. His heart raced so fast, even though he followed that man’s breathing. He never thought that someone can see his spiritual halo, he knew only the witches or shamans can see them. The whistling wasn’t fond of the witches due to disagreement to use magic to harm humans and animals. They were forbidden to enter their world because of their constant poaching precious herbs and animals for sacrifice. Except for the shamans, they can see and summon the whistling for help. Sometimes just a simple help to find missing human children, or need help to enter into the purgatory to talk to the dead. After his world was wiped out by the civilization, he hasn’t seen any whistling, or elves, as the English call them.

“I had that gift when I was a child. I thought I was imagining something but I saw someone like you walking around in the town where I used to live. I told my grandfather about it, and said I was imaginative because I don’t have a friend.” Flint said, scrunching his nose, cringed at his memories when he first saw that whistling or old folks said, elves. He tried to greet them but they ignored him. The next day, he was grounded for talking to that person he saw and was supposed to return to his master’s house. Turns out that person he saw on another day was an elf, kept as a slave. He found out most elves had lost their home to humans a long time ago and were using their knowledge to look for medicine to cure illness. Most of the elves had lost their spiritual halo, like Silver but their magic was dying because of the exhaustion, and some of them were killed trying to escape or using their magic to manipulate their master. Upon hearing that story from his grandfather, he felt sorry for them, wishes he could protect them, or help them. Since then, he has no longer seen that elf on the street. He heard the news from the old lady next door that the elf was gone, presumably dead due to illness, and it was his first and only encounter in this town.

“Captain?” He snapped out of his absent mind, realizing this man with concerned looks on him. His blue eyes never left him, puzzled why Flint suddenly stopped. He didn’t say anything instead helped Silver and himself to get up from the hard floor. He took out the key from his pocket, unlocked the irons on his left ankle. They both slouched against the desk and weren’t sure what to do. There was a heavy silence in this room, listening to the ocean crashes and the sounds of crews above the deck.

“I’m sorry, I just remembered something.” Flint lied, he wasn’t sure whether he should tell his sad story. He sat back against the desk and exhaled deeply, “I thought I was crazy to see someone like you here, on my ship. Your spiritual halo shined brightly in this room and I had asked Mr. Gates to let you stay here with me. He gave that disapproval look and did not expect him and Billy to chain you there.” Flint smiled meekly, he felt sorry for Silver being chained with the irons on his wrist. He knows the irons were harmful to the Whistling. He wishes he could stop his quartermaster and bosun but he needed to play as a dreadful pirate captain that doesn’t give a shit to the crews or anyone on this ship.

“How do you know, I mean, me as the whistling?” Silver asked, his eyes still on the floor, his face was covered by his mop of curls and his fingers busily fidgeting with his long sleeves. “For my entire life, I always thought I’m the only last kind in this New World. I traveled anywhere to find my people and the last thing I heard from one person I know, they were gone. Along with their magic and knowledge, they said.”

Flint looked up at the ceilings and watched the lantern swinging along the waves. The sounds of the crews on the deck were loud enough to fill the silence in this room. “It was long ago, I was eight at that time. The last time I saw them was a hometown, Padstow. He was the last elf in that town, and I heard he was dead. I found out that an elf used to work for the master for his knowledge of medicinal herbs.” Flint said, he glanced at the man next to him, his head still down on the floor. “I didn’t know why I had this gift, I asked my late grandfather about it,” his right hands busily circling his left ring, “he said I probably inherited from him. He said it was a blessing and a curse. He used to tell his stories of his encounter with many mystical creatures. He met the elves too, but..” Flint paused a bit, he was hesitant as to whether he should stop there.

“But what?” Silver nudged his shoulder, he moved a bit closer into Flint’s space. He wanted to know more about the rest of the story. Flint stared at Silver, his blue eyes were full of hope and there isn’t a way to refuse that puppy eyes. Darn him. He hated to break that man’s heart, with a sigh, “Most of the elves have lost their spiritual halo to hide from being spotted by humans. Their world was slowly disappearing as humans and their civilization took over their sacred place. They tried to keep magic alive but it was dying without their god. He has heard some elves agreed to work with the humans to trade their knowledge in order to keep their magic. Sadly, many of them died due to the illness or killed themselves because they couldn’t bear to be away with each other. The children are either taken by wealthy families or sold for slavery.”

“Oh. I see.” _Oh._ Silver’s smile slowly faded. He went back to his old position, his eyes still on the floor. He tucked his knee and sat back. He was fighting back tears, trying not to show his sadness in front of the captain. He dropped both hands on the floors, he felt hopeless. He was tired and all he wanted was a safe place to live with someone.

_I’m sorry._ Flint watched Silver’s hands on the floor and he could see there was a bit of a burn mark on both wrists. He felt sorry for that man, who looked so devastated, without consciously taking Silver’s left hand. His eyes widened and startled by the touch. Flint carefully lifted his left wrist to inspect the burn mark on him. The burn mark wasn’t serious and it will fade away if he applies the ointment on it every day. He then massaged Silver’s wrist to ease his pain and he kissed on his skin. He realized his mistake and quickly look back at Silver to apologize for his stupid action but was interrupted by Silver’s giggles.

“Why, thank you, Captain. I didn’t know if there is any mean, most frightening or terrifying pirate captain being concerned about me.” Silver laughed heartily, his whole face lit up. He never felt so happy and less scared of that red-haired captain next to him. Flint’s face turned red and dropped Silver’s wrist and he scowled away, hiding his embarrassment from Silver.

“Hmph,” Flint scoffed and continued, “just because I kissed your wrist to soothe your pain doesn’t mean I’m concerned-” his speech suddenly cut off by Silver’s small lips on him. He was stunned by the sudden kiss from Silver, wasn’t sure if he should kiss him back but boy, he desperately needed it. He wanted to know how it felt to kiss whistling people, elves (whatever that man preferred) and he went ahead to capture his lips, it was slow then into a heated kiss. The captain lifted Silver’s chin, lazily kissed him to savor his taste. John kissed him again and again, relishing the delicate feeling of their tongues touching, almost taking Flint’s breath away. They both broke their kisses, took a deep breath, and chuckled at each other. They looked silly and their hands were still entwined together, feeling the heat of their body. Flint tucked Silver’s head under his chin, his hand slowly stroking his back and Silver put his head closer to the captain’s chest. He never felt so warm under him, safe under a fearful man named Captain Flint.

They stayed there for a while, then Flint slowly released him under his embrace and helped him to get up from the floor. They grabbed the chair that had fallen earlier and returned to their designated place. Flint grabbed the rum bottle on the desks and two mugs together and filled each mug.

“Well, it's true. I’m whistling, or what the English call us,” with his air quote, “the elves. But we are much different although we share the same blood. I’m from the Old World, somewhere humid and earthy.” Silver said with his toothy grin, drinking away the content from the mug. “But I didn’t know how I ended up in English soil. What I remember was,” he paused a bit and continued, “that my world was gone. Someone found me on the road and I was sent to St. John’s orphanage in Whitechapel. That’s where I got my name from there. And my real name is Solomon Little.” Silver flashed his smile to Flint, slouching in his seat and drinking away his content.

“Solomon Little. What a lovely name for a young man, for a whistling.” Flint plastered a smile on his face. "Your secret is safe with me. I got you." Flint patted Silver's thigh gently and refilling their mugs again. Silver's eyes sparkled with bright blue ocean and Flint could see how bright his halo was. His halo was beamed up entire the room, brighter than the warm sun. For his entire life, being a captain for decades and Flint's lost dream finally came true, to greet the last mystical creature on this earth. Today is going to be a long day and both of them have a lot of stories to tell. The room lit brightly and filled with drunken giggles, some swearing (Flint forgot to unlocked the shackle on Silver's ankle), and ended on Flint's bed. There was a lot of touching and kissing, accompanied by the sounds of the ocean crashing.

Someday, he will share his story of how he became a pirate captain. The story of his old life with his late grandfather, and his hidden gift. He wants to know Silver’s life with the whistling. Perhaps, he could build future life with him, as a friend or a partner someday. This time, he wants to tell his story about Vasquez and the gold. The Walrus sailed and they both clinked their mug, drinking rum heartily while the crews above the deck cheering on something.

Sounds like they are going to be home soon.

**Author's Note:**

> In Black Sails fantasy world, the magic are gone and all the mystical creatures were forced to live among the humans and slowly losing their magical abilities. Soooo if you are asking how fast The Walrus was, I guess, there's bit magic left in their world ;)


End file.
